Chapter 6

“God damned fucking cunt!” Nicholas screamed in rage when he did not get a single shot.

An off-duty police officer grabbed Nicholas before he could strike the still silent Zane. For that stunt, Nicholas earned a lifetime ban from Blouchen Billiards. He stormed out angrily snarling threats at anyone who dared to mock him. His girlfriend unfortunately happened to be in the bathroom at the time of Nicholas’s banishment and departure so did not discover she’d been abandoned until Nicholas had raced out of the parking lot.

Still silent, Zane put her cue into the case, then encouraged Dominique as the girl played a sweating Kevin Durrell.

Dominique did not run the table, scratching on the eleven ball. Kevin managed to sink two balls before scratching. Dominique then finished the game. Kevin stormed out, protesting his loss.

A subdued Christine Campbell sat at a table while Lynn cornered Delilah, Nicolas’s abandoned girlfriend. Lynn even offered to teach the upset girl how to play snooker while they waited for Lynn to be called to play again.

Zane ran the tables on her next five opponents. Dominique was eliminated after her fourth game. Zane managed to eliminate the smirking man that had defeated her girlfriend in the very next game.

“Okay, go grab that girl and see if she wants nachos or a burger,” Zane said, giving Dominique some money while Lynn was busy on a table.

Christine did not make any moves to stop Dominique as Dominique spirited Lynn’s next intended victim away. She was still brooding over the nonchalant manner in which Lynn had defeated her in the very first round.

“And then there were fifty,” Eddy called out after a few hours had elapsed.

“She works at Frankly Franks,” Dominique disclosed as Zane brought her burger to the table where Dominique and Delilah were polishing off their own burgers.

“Know what they make hot dogs out of?” Zane teased.

“No! And I don’t want to know!” Delilah giggled happily.

Zane smiled, reflecting on her previous situation. Abandoned by Nicholas, left to the whims of two devious lesbians, her life had been altered on that day.

“Changes, Zane, Changes,” Zane said, chomping on her burger.

She was in the first group of players called to the table. The rack girl smiled a sassy smile and Zane returned the girl’s smile. While waiting, Zane again practiced her baton skills with the two halves of her cue.

“Damn, sure do hate beating pretty little girls,” the biker sneered, his oafish grin revealing rotted teeth.

“How sweet,” Zane said, smiling sweetly and fluttering her eyelashes.

Her smile did the trick. He did not win the lag; Zane broke. She then ran the table. Her last shot, she called the three ball into the side pocket and the eight ball into the corner pocket

“Hang on, hang on,” Birdie called out, balding head slick with sweat. “Eddy, come see!”

Eddy walked over, already rolling his eyes. Birdie was a sore loser, a complainer. He wondered what problem the man had dreamed up this time.

“All right, she called two balls off one shot,” Birdie explained. “But say she misses one. That mean I get shoot next?”

“Call it again?” Eddy asked.

“Three in the side, eight in the corner,” Zane said, using her finger to indicate which holes she was talking about.

“Honey, you sure?” Eddy asked, looking at the table.

In answer, Zane struck the three and it sank into the side pocket. The cue ball continued on a slightly altered trajectory and knocked the eight ball into the corner pocket.

“Yeah, Birdie, she’d missed either one of them? I’d let you take over,” Eddy smirked.

The pairing Zane had hoped for finally came. She was given table nine, facing off against Lynn Helmont. Lynn gave no indication that she recognized Zane Aaronson. Zane mused; Lynn and Chris must have done performed their seduction of many girls over the years. To them, Zane had been just one more cute, vulnerable girl that they’d could use for their own twisted fun.

Lynn won the right to break and Zane held her breath. The rack girl did her job and walked away, delectable rear end jiggling slightly.

“Mother fucker!” Lynn shrieked as she managed to drop the ten and the twelve ball, as well as scratching.

She complained that the rack girl must have racked inappropriately. Eddy pointed out that the four girls had all been shown the proper way to rack. And, so far, all four of the girls had racked several times with no complaints. He walked away, the situation resolved as far as he was concerned.

“Three in the corner,” Zane called out.

“Come on, let’s go,” Christine demanded when Zane eliminated Lynn from the competition.

“Fuck you,” Lynn spat, flinging Christine’s hand from her arm. “Eddy! Best two out of three?”

“Fine with me. Beating you once was fun; beating you twice will be twice as nice,” Zane smirked.

“Fine. Two out of three,” Eddy said, rolling his eyes at the older woman’s antics.

Adrenaline caused Lynn to gouge the felt covering the surface of the table. They had to wait for another table to become available for their second match. While Lynn seethed, Zane stood quietly, watching and waiting.

“And because you ruined the table, she gets to break,” Eddy declared when table ten was available.

“Got a hundred says Zane wins,” Dominique called out.

Zane smiled, shaking her head at Dominique’s enthusiasm. Three men decided they’d take those odds, putting up their own bills.

With steely calm, Zane took all of the low balls off the table, finally setting her sights on the eight ball. She called the side pocket, causing Lynn to smirk. The eight ball was resting against the bumper half way between the corner and the side pocket.

Zane struck the cue ball gently. The ball ricocheted off the far bumper and lazily rolled to where the eight ball sat. The cue ball kissed the eight, sending it on its way to the side pocket.

“Like I said, twice as nice,” Zane smirked when the ball dropped.

“Ready now?” Christine demanded, not reaching to touch the red-faced Lynn.

“You fucking bitch,” Lynn hissed hatefully.

“You sore loser,” Zane hissed, mocking Lynn.

“Helmont, don’t,” Eddy warned before Lynn could advance on the smirking Zane. “Don’t make me ban you from here.”

Zane lost the very next game; she never got a shot. The seventy year old man wiped his filthy glasses and smiled as Zane congratulated him on a very skillful game.

“Thanks, kid,” the old man said. “Bill Coski was the one taught me.”

“Wish I could have met him,” Zane said, shaking the man’s hand.

“Ready, Sweetheart?” Dominique asked softly.

“Yeah. We taking Delilah home?” Zane asked, breaking her cue stick down and putting it into the case.

“I live right there; those apartments behind the Burns grocery store on Halliwell,” Delilah offered.

“With the real big orange water tower by it?” Zane verified as they stepped out into the late afternoon.

“Sorry you didn’t win,” Dominique whispered.

“What? Sweetheart, I did win,” Zane assured her girlfriend, slamming the lid of the trunk closed.

“What?” Dominique asked, gasping as the heated air of the car rushed out of the open doors.

“I beat my old boyfriend. Then I beat Lynn,” Zane said, getting into the car.

“And, more importantly, I kept the two bitches from getting their hands on…” Zane continued and jerked her thumb toward the small Asian-American girl in the rear seat.

“Oh! Dominique? She says you’re a dancer?” Delilah chirped from the rear seat.

“That’s right,” Zane agreed. “Hunter’s Cabin.”

“I, it, is it hard?” Delilah asked. “I mean, I’m working the shittiest hours at that hot dog place; twenty one hours last week. You believe that? How am I supposed pay rent when he’s only giving me twenty one hours?”

“Physically? It’s not hard. Strenuous maybe but not hard. Emotionally? Well, that depends on you,” Zane admitted.

A quick phone call to Hunter earned Delilah an interview. Zane smirked when Hunter told Delilah to show up Monday morning at ten, come in through the rear door.

Delilah kissed Zane and Dominique on their cheeks before scrambling out of the car. Zane and Dominique watched as she scampered up the three sets of stairs to her fourth floor apartment. When the girl entered her apartment, Zane backed out of the parking lot.

Once again in their home, Zane and Dominique shrugged out of their sweat pants and tee shirts. Unlike Lynn and Christine, the two girls had dressed to be comfortable, not alluring. Zane had toyed briefly with the idea of dressing in a provocative manner; her work at Hunter’s Cabin had pretty much made her immune to shyness. At the last minute, she’d opted for comfort instead.

“Oh God! This is sooo good!” Dominique sighed, settling into the foaming water.

“Oh, heaven, heaven, heaven,” Zane sighed, reclining in the lounger, jets pummeling her shoulders and lower back.

The jets died after ten minutes and Dominique set them to run again. Lazily, Zane floated to where Dominique reclined. She put her hands underneath the bubbling waters and caressed Dominique’s breasts while they kissed. After a moment of playing with Dominique’s pierced nipples, Zane dipped her hand further down, seeking Dominique’s pierced clitoris.

Zane kept Dominique on the verge of climax. Just as the jets again died, she allowed Dominique to cry out in pleasure. Zane’s mouth over Dominique’s mouth stifled the sound of her climax; they did not want the little pervert that lived at 1217 Myrtle Place peeking over the privacy fence.

Zane and a still shaky Dominique clambered out of the tub and scampered into the house. Both gasped out as the chilled air inside of their home greeted them.

In their shower, they rinsed themselves clean of the hot tub’s chemicals. Then, as the hot water beat down on them, Zane pulled Dominique to lie on the shower’s floor. They swung into a side by side sixty nine as the four showerheads pelted them.

Waterlogged and happy, the two toweled each other dry, then

Zane was almost asleep when Dominique wiggled her small hand between then and placed her hand onto Zane’s belly. Sleepily, Zane wiggled her hand down to grasp Dominique’s hand.

“You ever, you ever think we might have a baby? Someday?” Dominique whispered.

Zane was suddenly wide awake. She gripped Dominique’s hand very tightly, trying to see Dominique’s face in the darkness.

“How, how far along are you?” Zane accused.

Dominique’s silence was all the confirmation Zane needed. Flinging her hand away, Zane disentangled her limbs from Dominique and rolled away from the blonde. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stared into the darkness.

Sunday’s silence stretched out; the only sound being Zane’s practicing trick shots on her billiard table. Around four o’clock, Dominique announced that she was starving and began preparing leftovers. She called Zane to the table and Zane let out an audible sigh of irritation. She put her cue into the case and joined Dominique at the small kitchen table.

“It was when I went home for Christmas,” Dominique whispered as they ate.

“I don’t care,” Zane snapped.

“Egg nog. You know I can’t say no to egg nog and my dad just loads it up with rum,” Dominique continued.

“I said I don’t care. I don’t care when or how or why,” Zane shrilled, slamming her fork onto the table.

“I was drunk!” Dominique screamed. “All right? I was drunk!”

“And that just makes it all better?” Zane screamed, storming away from the table.

She slammed and locked the door of the bedroom. Laying down on the bed, Zane smelled Dominique. She smelled Dominique’s perfume clinging to the bedspread and pillow case and blanket. For Christmas, Dominique’s mother had given her daughter a bottle of Opium and the scent clung to the bedding.

Unlocking the door, Zane dragged the bedspread down the hall to the laundry room. Then she marched back to the bedroom and began putting Dominique’s clothing into the fourth bedroom, the bedroom furthest away from the main bedroom. Hunger forced her to stop and finish her now cold supper. Then she continued moving Dominique out of her bedroom and bathroom.

Delilah did come in for an interview; Hunter gave Zane a crisp Benjamin for recommending the girl. The petite Asian -American girl danced under the name Candi; she was oh so sweet.

“Everyone here says you are so smart,” Delilah said one evening as she prepared to go onto the stage.

“Oh! Well, that’s so sweet of them,” Zane said, wiggling into her Hunter’s Cabin half-shirt.

“When it comes to money, you’re the best,” Delilah continued double checking her costume.

Candi was quickly becoming a favorite. She looked innocent; she favored school girl outfits. But when the music started, she was animalistic in her movements. She rarely did duty as a server; the Deer Stands kept her pretty busy.

“I’ll give you some business cards before you leave out of here,” Zane promised as Patrick called for Candi.

“Hey, Leather Girl,” Soleil called out, sticking her head into the back. “Deer stand two.”

“Be right there,” Zane smirked, hurrying to put her leather costume on again.

As promised, Zane gave Delilah the business cards of Russel Ubelhauser and Jack Thompson. Just as she had done from their first meeting, Delilah kissed Zane on the cheek, then scampered to her car. Helena, another dancer yawned, shaking her head.

“Two o’clock in the morning; ought to be against the law to have that much energy,” Helena mumbled.

Zane wearily drove home. Just as Hunter, Buddy and Patrick had advised, she did not take a direct route home. She even drove past her home heading north. Then, she doubled back and pressed the button for the garage door.

She was bone-tired; it had been a long night. Two dancers had called in sick which left the floor short of two servers and the stage short of two dancers. Her vest bulged with cash, though.

Opening the door from garage to kitchen, Zane was instantly awake. There was a horrifying, cloying scent of burned plastic and other matter. Even as her hand shot out for the light switch, Zane’s eyes swept the interior, looking for any flame.

The kitchen did not show any sign of fire; Zane even checked the ceiling above the stove.

Turning on the light to the living room, Zane discovered the source of the odor. Her billiards table had been torched. In the middle of the table lay what was left of her Bill Coski cue stick and carrying case. The surface of the table had been struck repeatedly by a hammer or some other instrument; there were cracks all through the surface. And all the billiard balls were severely chipped or cracked.

Calling out for Dominique, Zane marched to the fourth bedroom.

The bed did not have her pillow on it. Her clothes were gone. The toiletries were gone from the hall bathroom.